


Hush

by Severina



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: tamingthemuse, Post Episode 305
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ain’t no reason to wake the whole damn place,” he mumbles against the soft shell of the baby’s ear before tucking her against his chest and heading for the outer door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's tamingthemuse community, for the prompt 'wander'. Post Episode 305.
> 
> * * *

Daryl hears the baby start fussing long before the others, is already leaning over the milk crate that serves as her makeshift crib before Maggie has done more than stumble wearily to the open door of her cell. She smiles gratefully when he waves her away, is probably already halfway asleep again before her head hits the pillow.

“Gonna have to get you a real bed,” he murmurs as he lifts the baby out of the crate. A quick check confirms that she’s dry and Daryl knows there’s no way she can be hungry yet, but she still squirms in his arms, mewls like that kitten that used to hide out under the front porch until it disappeared that summer when he was ten. He rocks her slowly but she still complains noisily, and after a moment he hears Glenn stirring in his bunk, sees Carl push at the scratchy blankets on his cot, his feet tangling in the covers. He catches the boy’s eye and shakes his head, leans down to pick up one of the lightweight baby blankets they snagged from the day care.

“Ain’t no reason to wake the whole damn place,” he mumbles against the soft shell of the baby’s ear before tucking her against his chest and heading for the outer door.

The night air is still stifling, the heat of the day baked into the asphalt. Daryl wanders out into the yard, strokes a palm down the baby’s back as he paces back and forth.

The snarls of the walkers are louder without the brick walls of the prison to muffle them.

In the dark of the night many of them have drifted off, drawn by the sounds of the nocturnal animals that tentatively creep from the undergrowth to forage in the light of the moon. But a few stalwart walkers still press eagerly against the fence, bony fingers wrapped resolutely around the wire. The baby seems to sense them there, too; shifts her head and whimpers in his arms.

Daryl calms her with nonsense words, smoothes a finger against the soft skin of her cheek until she quiets. He knows the barriers will hold, but his gaze still travels along the fence line, confirms that all the padlocks are still in place, that there are no gaps in the wire. They’ve already lost too many people to risk relaxing the vigilance even for a moment.

In the wan moonlight he can just make out the shapes of the crosses in the distant yard. He ignores the ache that the sight of them brings, pushes it down deep. He can’t change what’s already happened; can’t bring Sophia or Carol back, can’t save Lori or T. He can only move forward.

When one of the geeks flings itself aggressively at the fence, he tightens his grip reflexively around the child in his arms. He glances down when the baby flails a tiny hand against his chest, straightens his shoulders when she mewls and blinks up at him sleepily. 

“Hush, now,” he says softly. “I got you.”


End file.
